


Working the Kinks Out

by Redqueenswrath



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Is that even a kink?, It is now!, M/M, Oil Gland Kink, Penetration of oil gland, Wing Fucking, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wing Oil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 12:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10593615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redqueenswrath/pseuds/Redqueenswrath
Summary: Castiel needs help grooming his wings. AKA: flimsy excuse to explore Dean's wing kink.





	

A cranky Castiel was a force to be reckoned with, Dean realized. This went way, way,  _ way _ past the straight-laced angel’s usual behavior, and it had the Winchesters running for cover. Cas stalked around the bunker, twitching like a crackhead and glaring in a vaguely murderous way. After the third time the furious seraph had exploded a small appliance for looking at him the wrong way, Dean decided that he had had enough. 

 

“Cas, what the hell is your problem?” Dean snapped as he rescued the toaster from certain demise. 

 

The angel in question fixed his friend with a nasty glare. “Nothing, Dean.” Dean rolled his eyes.

 

“Well I think my hair might be smoking after that look you just gave me, so I'm gonna call bullshit on that one. Are you ok?” Castiel rounded on the human, his eyes flashing, and whatever response Dean had been expecting, it wasn't the explosion that followed.

 

“No, Dean Winchester, I am  _ not ok!! _ My wings are filthy, matted with hellfire soot and the blood of demons and monsters, and overall just plain disgusting! I am so uncomfortable that I want to leave my vessel, even though it wouldn't help! And there's nothing I can do about it because I  _ cannot reach my own wings _ , and I have no one to groom them for me because I abandoned heaven for  _ you!  _ My feathers are so foul that my oil glands are clogged and it marks me as an outcast, without a single friend to my name!” Castiel slammed his hand down on the table to punctuate his rant, leaving a spiderweb of cracks. 

 

Dean stared at the angel, gaping like a landed fish while his brain tried to catch up with the outburst. “Cas… man, why didn't you say something?” Castiel ran his hands through his perpetual bedhead in frustration.

 

“What possible purpose would that have served?” Dean flinched.

 

“I don't know, maybe I could have offered to help?” The resulting disbelieving snort stung the human more than he cared to admit.

 

“Forgive me Dean, but grooming is only done by those closest to us.” Dean’s pride took another harsh blow before he locked it down and pulled on a blank mask. 

 

“I thought we  _ were  _ close. Whatever. I'm going for a drive.” Dean snatched up his keys and made for the garage in what was absolutely not a badly wounded retreat. He was just slotting the key into his Baby’s ignition when a shout startled him.

 

“Dean! Wait!” Castiel tore into the garage in a flutter of unseen wings. Dean rolled the window down but didn't take his hand off the ignition.

 

“What do you want, Castiel?” He ground out.

 

“I am...sorry. I did not mean to offend you. I just had never considered that you might be willing to help me.” Castiel was fidgeting with his tie, a sure sign that he was uncomfortable. Dean heaved a sigh.

 

“Cas, we’ve saved each other’s asses more times than I can count. You're always on about that ‘profound bond’ nonsense… and you don't think that I wouldn't do anything for you?” Castiel slumped in defeat.

 

“Please, Dean? Will you help me with my wings? It's so unbearably uncomfortable.” The angel seemed to shrink inwards on himself, shamefaced and unable to look Dean in the eyes for fear of rejection. The elder Winchester didn't have it in him to refuse. 

 

“Of course, Cas. Come on, let's see what we’re working with here.” Still staring fixedly at a spot on the concrete, Cas nodded. His whole body seemed to shimmer and Dean blinked, trying to clear the heat-mirage effect from his eyes. What he saw nearly knocked him on his ass in surprise- he had always known in some way that his friend had wings, but it was something altogether different to  _ see  _ them! The problem was that he could barely get a look at them since Cas had them pinned back behind him. 

 

Castiel kept his eyes fixed on his scuffed dress shoes, an embarrassed flush creeping it's way up his neck. He instinctively tried to fold his wings as small as he could, trying in vain to conceal them behind his human form. When Dean reached out to touch them, he shied away. Dean huffed in frustration. 

 

“Cas, come on man. If I'm going to help you, I need to see them.” The human’s voice was soft yet commanding, and the angel found himself helplessly obeying. Castiel made a noise that he would forever deny was a shy whimper before stretching the feathered appendages out as far as they would go, nearly twenty feet from,wingtip to wingtip. Dean gave a soft whistle.

 

“DAMN, Cas! They're huge!” Cas flushed even further. The Winchester ghosted his fingertips across the arch of the closest wing, inspecting the dull black feathers with hands and eyes alike. When he pulled away, his hand was coated in what looked like dust or soot. Castiel cringed. 

 

“And absolutely filthy. I'm a shame to my species.” Dean cut him off with a sharp gesture before carelessly wiping the grimy oil on his jeans. It wasn't like he wasn't used to having dirty hands- working on his Baby usually left them in a similar state.

 

“None of that. Come on, let's get you to the showers so we can start prettying you up again.” Castiel trudged along behind his friend, mentally calculating the odds of the earth cracking open in this very spot and swallowing him whole. Alas, the planet didn't oblige him, and soon the seraph found himself standing awkwardly against the stone wall of the bunker's massive shower room while Dean fiddled with the faucets. 

 

The angel was entirely unprepared for the sight of Dean starting to strip his clothes off in front of him. Castiel knew he was staring, but any semblance of coherent thought fled the instant Dean hauled his undershirt off and started toeing out of his boots. When damp denim went sailing across the room to land in a heap in the corner, Castiel forgot to keep breathing. Of course he had seen both brothers in various states of undress over the years, but it was almost always while attempting to heal them. Dean was putting miles of perfect, undamaged flesh on display for him, utterly unaware of how his friend’s pulse was hammering in his throat. Castiel groaned softly. How was he going to survive this without spontaneously combusting? 

 

Dean stopped short of removing his boxers and glanced over at the other man. Casual nudity wasn't an issue between him and Sam-growing up in each other’s back pockets had left no room for being shy about his body. Hell, he had bathed his not-so-little baby brother more times than he cared to admit, even well into adulthood. He had stitched Sam’s wounds, washed dirt and blood and vomit out of his hair, and nursed him through the flu. Cas, on the other hand, was still struggling to grasp basic human behavior. The angel was quite obviously having a hard time with the concept of nonsexual nudity. Dean sighed and resigned himself to wet boxers.

 

“Come on, man. I can't wash your feathers around a sopping wet trench coat. Strip. I won't bite.” The unbidden mental image that produced sent a now-familiar fizzle of heat down Castiel’s spine and he choked back a whimper. Dean was ignorant of the angel's less than holy thoughts about him. Didn't know. Couldn't know. Castiel was all too aware of Dean’s stick-straight sexual orientation, and Castiel’s vessel was male. The Winchester would never forgive him. The seraph sighed and obeyed, dropping his overcoat, suit jacket, tie, and dress shirt in a heap.

 

Dean watched with fascination as Castiel shed layer after layer of cloth, the fabric simply phasing through his wings without disturbing the matted feathers. Talk about weird! The angel kicked off his dress shoes and made a face of disgust when his socks instantly soaked through. The soggy garments were removed and flung at the wall. Dean huffed in amusement when they stuck with a wet squelch. After a moment of hesitation, Castiel ditched his slacks, too. His undershirt went last and the raven-haired angel felt a flush creep up his neck under Dean’s stare. The human cleared his throat.

 

“Ok, so I'm not sure that shampoo is good for feathers, but we have got to get all that dirt out of them before we try anything else.” Castiel nodded mutely, his eyes fixed on the tile under his feet. “Come on.” Dean guided him under the spray, angling several of the shower heads to hit his wings simultaneously. Dean retrieved a plastic bottle from a rack in the corner.

 

“I figure that Sam’s froufrou organic crap is better for you than my stuff. Won't damage your feathers, hopefully.” Dean obviously didn't expect an answer as he lathered his hands. The first tentative touch of the other man’s fingers had Castiel shivering as lightning danced up his spine. Dean spread the suds across the arch of his left wing before working his fingers and the bubbles past the thick primary feathers and into the down hidden underneath. He worked carefully, coaxing the feathers apart and removing debris as he went. 

 

Castiel groaned again, this time in relief. Dean chuckled, reminded of the time he and Sam had spent a week in the desert in Arizona without enough water to spare for cleaning themselves. That first shower afterward had been practically orgasmic. Dean started relating the story, rambling on about the hunt for the infuriated spirit that had summoned up a sandstorm in an effort to stop the brothers. “I had sand in places it should  _ never _ be, and the wind just about gave Sam dreadlocks.” Castiel laughed, too amused by the image Dean was conjuring up to focus on his own discomfort. Dean had already progressed from the tip of his wing to the joint where the limb seamlessly melted into his back. The human gathered more shampoo I'm his palm and set to work on the right wing. When he combed his fingers through the sodden feathers, some came out in his hand. Dean made an alarmed sound.

 

“Cas, you're losing feathers here!” He tried to keep a note of fear out of his voice, but his success was questionable.

 

Cas grunted. “I'm not surprised. That wing took fairly heavy damage in Hell. Just pull the loose ones so new feathers can grow.” Dean hesitantly obeyed, plucking bent and broken feathers gingerly.

 

“That doesn't hurt?” The human prodded. He still wasn't convinced that yanking feathers out of an angel was a good idea. Castiel turned his head to peer at his friend. 

 

“It's no worse than plucking a hair, and it must be done if I'm ever going to be able to replace them.” Dean could hear the eyeroll in the angel's voice as he returned to grooming. 

 

Dean mentally thanked the Men of Letters and whatever allowed them to have an unlimited supply of hot water as he slowly worked lather into every inch of the backside of his angel’s wings.  _ ‘Wait,  _ my _ angel? When the hell did that happen?’ _ The Winchester thought. He waited for a surge of holy-shit-I’m-not-gay thoughts, but it never came. Huh. Ok, then. He reached for one of the detachable shower heads.

 

“Alright, I think the backs are done. Let's hose you off and see what we’re working with on the other side.” Castiel shivered, despite the soothing warmth of the water being directed at his feathers. He stared at the tile, watching in fascination and disgust as deep grey water swirled down the drain under him. He had known that his wings were in rough shape, but the sheer amount of filth…

 

“Spin.” Dean gave his shoulder a gentle push, and the angel obeyed without meeting Dean’s eyes. “Hey, knock that off.” Castiel tilted his head in confusion. “That. That look. Like you're embarrassed or feeling guilty. I don't mind helping ya, Cas. You're family, remember?” Castiel couldn't keep the broad, toothy grin that spread across his face at that. Yes, family. The Winchesters, little and broken as they were, were his family. Dean matched his smile. 

 

“That's more like it.” The human reached for his wing again.

 

“Dean, I have to warn you- the underside of my wings is… sensitive.” Castiel stuttered, unsure of how the other man would react to the new information.

 

“I'll be gentle.” Dean made another grab for the Saraph’s feathers, but Castiel yanked them back.

 

“No, not sensitive as in easy to injure.” Dean froze, a flush beginning to stain his cheeks as he realized what the angel meant.

 

“Oh.  _ Oh!  _ Holy shit. I'm sorry, man. Look, I'll keep it professional, ok?” Dean fidgeted, looking anywhere but at his friend. Castiel set his teeth and extended a wing, which Dean reached for after a moment of hesitation. 

 

The first touch of Dean’s callused fingers on his sensitive underwing made the angel’s whole body shiver, although he bit his tongue to control the moan that threatened to escape. Dean's ears were pink as he gingerly spread the suds around. When Castiel didn't instantly collapse into an orgasm, the tension in the human’s shoulders eased a bit. He could do this. Just washing a “sensitive” area didn't mean anything. He'd given Sam bed baths when the guy was unconscious. This was no different, right? Right. Now if only he could convince his own body of that.

 

Dean worked carefully, trying to simultaneously clean the feathers completely and keep the touching to a minimum. Castiel was very obviously fighting his body’s reactions, worrying his lower lip until it looked ready to crack as he struggled to look unaffected. If he was fighting that hard, he clearly didn't want Dean to see it. Professional. Dean had to be professional. Nevermind the fact that those little hitches in the angel’s breathing sounded just like arousal, or the way the blush on his cheeks was spreading all the way to his chest. The Winchester’s cock gave an interested twitch.  _ Fuck. _

 

To distract himself, Dean retrieved more soap and dug his hands into the down closest to the wing joint, intent on getting rid of the thick, oily grime that had accumulated there. His fingers brushed a walnut-sized lump, and Castiel jerked as if he had been struck by lightning. What the hell?

 

“Cas….?” Dean breathed, desperately trying to ignore how his angel was now gasping for air.

 

“Oil gland.” Castiel ground out. “When they're clean, they leak preening oil that helps keep my wings smooth and healthy. But they're so clogged up right now that they can't do their job.” Dean noted the lack of explanation of the startling reaction touching it had caused. Instead of further questioning the angel, Dean just cocked an eyebrow at him. Castiel shuffled his feet and rolled his shoulders to resettle the massive feathered limbs. “Their secondary use is for intercourse.” He finally muttered. Dean sighed heavily.

 

“Cas, I want to help you. I really do. But if this is making you uncomfortable, I'll stop.” Cas shook his head vehemently.

 

“No. No, please don't stop.” He whispered. Something in the Seraph’s tone made Dean freeze. 

 

“Do you  _ want _ me to touch you like this?” Dean prodded. Castiel buried his face in his hands. Damn the Winchesters and their ridiculous intuitive streak. He groaned in frustration and no small amount of terror, muffling the noise against his palms. Two of Dean’s fingers hooked under his chin and gently but firmly forced him to look up.

 

“Cas?” Dean’s voice was soft and desperate, as if he didn't dare let himself hope. Castiel choked on whatever he had been planning on saying when he deciphered the raw, open expression of the man he had rescued from Hell. The angel was frozen, caught up in some spell as time stood still.

 

“Cas, angel, you know I'm no good with words…” Dean murmured, drawing the other man so close that Castiel could feel the warmth of Dean’s lips. Something shattered inside him and the angel surged upwards, catching Dean in a graceless, clumsy kiss. Dean gave a surprised grunt before cupping his angel’s cheek and gently taking control of the kiss. He chuckled against Castiel’s lips as he slowed it down. To his credit, the million-year-old virgin learned very quickly and was soon kissing Dean breathless.

 

Dean finally broke away for air and pressed their foreheads together. To his amusement, Castiel was panting for breath he didn't technically need. His whole frame was trembling, his feathers puffed up almost comically and his eyes blown wide. 

 

“Dean….” He whispered. Dean gave him a bright grin. 

 

“Come on, angel. Let's finish getting you cleaned up.” Castiel gave a low groan and arched his wings towards the human, putting the undersides blatantly on display, and Dean’s eyes went dark. He drove his trigger-calloused fingers in, searching for and finding the gland he had encountered earlier. The angel keened.

 

“Bingo.” Dean traced his fingers around it, spreading the soap all over, and began gently massaging it in. The oil gland was swollen and warm to the touch, as though it was so clogged up that it was becoming infected. Dean started at the thought-what if Castiel had gotten sick from this?  _ Could  _ angels get sick? He cast the idea aside with a shudder and returned his focus to his friend-turned-lover. 

 

Castiel was already a mess and they had barely started. Dean's hands were firm and sure on the angel’s wings, taking his decades of experience in pleasuring human women and bringing it to bear on his angel. Dean gently massaged and squeezed the swollen nodule with one hand. With the other, he groped for the detachable shower head and flicked the setting to ‘massage’. He turned the pulsing spray onto the gland, using it to help loosen the plug of old oil and grime. A gush of hot, thick liquid and a pornographic moan from the angel signaled the relief of the blocked gland. Dean gave a slightly unsteady laugh.

 

“Was that good for you, baby?” He joked, trying to ignore how hard his dick was throbbing under his drenched boxers.

 

“You have no idea… no concept or how good it feels to have that gland functioning at last.” Castiel’s gravelly voice shook a little. The angel looked dazed, and Dean was reminded quite strongly of the time Lisa had decided to play around with orgasm denial. The spitfire of a woman had kept him on the edge for most of a day, using a cock ring to prevent him from going over, and by the time he has begged on his knees for her to just let him  _ cum already,  _ the resulting orgasm had knocked him unconscious. 

 

Castiel smirked. “That would pale in comparison to the relief I feel right now.”

 

“Cas, how many times have I gotta tell you to stay out of my head?” Dean grouched.

 

“I was not ‘in your head’. You were projecting quite loudly.” Dean flushed in embarrassment. Thinking about a former lover while actively pleasuring another… his angel must think he's such a manwhore. He didn't deserve someone so holy and pure as an actual  _ angel of the Lord _ . Castiel brought his self-depreciating train of thought to a screeching halt with a tender kiss.

 

“Dean Winchester, I do not care that you have had prior lovers. Your past does not make you a bad person, it makes you a passionate and skilled lover whom I have desired to copulate with for a long time.” Dean laughed, his darkening mood instantly broken.

 

”Dude, you're not supposed to make reading from the dictionary sound sexy.” He peppered the angel’s cheeks and forehead with kisses before reaching for the neglected wing. “Let's finished getting you fixed up before we get to any ‘copulating’.” He eased his hand through the sodden feathers until he found his target. Dean began repeating his earlier ministrations on the still-blocked gland, keeping the hot, pulsing water directed on it at all times.

 

Castiel made a noise that was halfway between bleary contentment and desperate arousal and leaned back against the tile. He let his eyes drift shut as Dean worked his wing over, allowing the thrum of lust to course through his veins. The angel’s cock was almost painfully hard under the soaked cloth of his boxers, which hung dangerously low off his narrow hips. A few minutes of the human’s tender ministrations worked the clot loose and Castiel nearly collapsed in relief.

 

Dean caught him and held him close, supporting the other man until he got his feet back under him. The last of the suds were washed away, taking the grime with them. Castiel sagged against his friend’s chest. 

 

“Thank you, Dean.” He told Dean’s collarbone. The elder Winchester kissed his temple and shut the water off. He produced a large, fluffy towel and began drying and fluffing the drenched feathers.

 

“Bed, angel?” Dean asked softly, trying to control the tremble that threatened to slip into his voice. There was a soft snap, and suddenly Dean found himself crash landing on his memory foam mattress with a lapful of angel.

 

“Misjudge that landing much?” He teased gently, pecking Cas on the lips to show that he didn't mean it. 

 

Castiel scowled. “I'd like to see  _ you _ fly with damp wings and an erection.” Dean choked with laughter, burying his face against his pillow as he howled. The pouting angel cuffed his human with a massive wing. When he finally sobered, Dean tangled his fingers into the other man’s dark hair and pulled him in for another exploratory kiss. The hunter's hands roamed up and down Castiel’s back, teasing at the wing joints. Cas moaned softly and arched into the tortuous caress.

 

“Dean… Dean, please…” he gasped, grinding against the hardness hidden under Dean’s still damp boxers. The Winchester got a handful of feathers and tugged, drawing a high moan from the other’s throat. When Dean pulled his hand away, his rough calluses caught on the feathers. Castiel whimpered.

 

“Dean, could you please spread some of my preen oil over my wings? The feathers are drying out and it's itchy.” Dean hummed an affirmative and guided his angel to turn around and lay down on the bed. The human straddled the other’s hips and reached for the wing joints. Without hesitation, he drove both hands into the black down and latched onto the oil glands, carefully stroking them until they began leaking the warm slick again. Castiel moaned roughly and leaned into the touch as Dean began to spread the oil around. He frequently went back for a fresh palmful, running his hands over and through the feathers over and over until each feather gleamed like an oil slick. 

 

Mission accomplished, Dean went back to caressing the walnut-sized glands, exploring them with the tips of his fingers. They were leaking copious amounts of oil now, saturating the down around them. Castiel was moaning wantonly now, grinding into the mattress for some friction, and Dean couldn't help but echo him. He scootched up the angel’s back until he was perched just under his wings and renewed his assault on the sensitive nodules. Another low, gravely cry from his angel had Dean bucking his hips instinctively. The head of his still-covered cock caught some of the lower feathers and Castiel went wild under him.

 

“ _ Yeeeee-eesssss _ ….” The seraph hissed, arching back against his new lover. He clicked his fingers and both pairs of boxers vanished. Dean shuddered at the sensation of suddenly being bare. Cas rolled up against him again. The velveteen, slick feathers dragged along the head of Dean’s cock, getting a punched-out groan.

 

“Cas?” Dean breathed, unsure if the angel wanted what he thought he wanted.

 

“Dammit Dean, yes!” Castiel snapped. He had obviously been listening in on the human’s thoughts again and Dean couldn't bring himself to care as he thrust into the feathers again. He dug his fingers in, being a bit more rough with the oil gland. His finger snagged in the small indent where the slick leaked from and Castiel screamed something in Enochian. Dean froze. When the angel had caught his breath, he turned to look over his shoulder at the human. 

 

Castiel fixed his very best ‘I will smite you’ look on Dean. “Do that again.” He growled, and Dean obeyed out of force of habit. He carefully teased the tip of his finger into the hole, running his calluses around the rim. Cas went off into another string of Enochian and buried his face against the duvet. Dean thrust again and again, driving his thick shaft through the feathers in the same rhythm as his finger shallowly penetrating the gland. Castiel continued his broken cries and half formed words, too overwhelmed by pleasure to even consider feeling embarrassed by his wanton behavior. 

 

The human slowly coaxed the gland to accept his finger deeper. He carefully applied pressure to the rim and it reluctantly gave way to allow a second fingertip entry. Dean watched in fascination as the small hole eventually swallowed two fingers to the second knuckle. It was absolutely pouring oil at this point as it greedily sucked his fingers in.

 

Eager to get more of that impossibly slick and tingly oil on his cock, Dean awkwardly shuffled further up Castiel’s prone form until he could rest his shaft in the crook of a wing joint. He heaved a blissed out sigh, which Castiel echoed.

 

“Ah….  _ Fuck _ , Cas…” Dean gritted out as he continued to wing-fuck his best friend. A brief thought about just how unholy this whole scenario was crossed his mind, but he quickly squashed it. Even if he ended up in Hell for jizzing all over an angel’s wings, Cas would just haul him out again anyways. 

 

Dean kept up the slow, firm thrusts, keeping a rhythm that wouldn't drag him over the edge too soon as he fingered the oil gland. He was going to drag this out, burn it into his memory so strongly that the very scent of Castiel’s oil -thick and reminiscent of sandalwood- would make him hard enough to pound nails. He shifted his weight and thrust a bit sharply as he nearly lost his balance. The mushroom head of his cock caught and ground against the open gland and Castiel shrieked so loudly that the mirror on Dean's dresser cracked down the middle. Dean froze.

 

“You ok, babe?” He questioned, not sure if that had been a scream of pleasure or pain. Castiel gave a wordless moan and rolled his shoulders, pressing the gland against Dean’s cock. Well, that answered  _ that  _ question. Dean rocked forward, grinding his cockhead against the gland again. The motion carried forward just a bit and Dean felt the heat-tingle-clench engulf the tip of his shaft. Green eyes went crossed in mind-numbing pleasure.

 

“Again.” Cas snarled, his voice like a thunderstorm. Dean obliged, rolling his hips in a figure eight to maximize the sensation. He cursed a blue streak, shaking with the effort to hold back. Castiel barked at him once more.

 

“Again, Dean!” Helpless to disobey, Dean rocked forward and fucked into the sopping oil gland. There was no room to get any depth, but the impossibly tight and slick grip was driving him towards a white-hot orgasm at breakneck speed. 

 

“Fuck! Fuck, Cas! I’m….!” was all he could choke out before the strongest climax he'd had in years slammed through him. The pleasure sang through his veins and the man screamed until his voice cracked. Dean's grip on the angel’s feathers tightened and Cas followed him over the edge with a broken sob. 

 

Dean collapsed bonelessly beside his angel. They were both gasping for air, soaked in sweat and oil and cum. Dean gave his lover a shaky smile and stroked his cheek. Castiel caught his palm and pressed a tender kiss. Dean chuckled and kissed the other man’s nose, getting a scrunched up grin in response.

 

“Our first time and you came out the other side a virgin. Dammit, Cas! That wasn't how I intended things to go.” Dean's toothy grin belied the teasing tone. Castiel smirked at him.

 

“I  _ am  _ an Angel of the Lord. I rebuilt your body from dust and bone. You think I cannot make your cock rise again so quickly?” The not-so-angelic angel’s grin turned downright lewd as his fingers danced down Dean’s chest, over his abs, and wrapped around his flaccid cock. Dean jerked in surprise as a velvety tingle sunk into his skin and his flesh indeed began to harden again. Dean shook his head with a bemused grin. 

 

“Million year old virgin to sex god in less than an hour. I've created a monster.” 

 

No more words were spoken for quite some time.

  
  



End file.
